


The Once Upon A Time Affair: Out of Sight Out of Mind

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Injury, Recovery, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: A young woman applying for a job at the U.N.C.L.E. Charity organization causes a bit of trouble and a big problem for Illya Kuryakin.





	The Once Upon A Time Affair: Out of Sight Out of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Once upon a time affair challenge' in Section7mfu live journal
> 
> The prompt for the challenge is:
> 
> When {Your Choice} had woken up that morning {he/she} could never have imagined how the day would end. {He/she} had heard of U.N.C.L.E. but hadn't had any real idea of what it was they did. In only a few ours {he/she} had learned far more than the average civilian.
> 
> The Theme – No theme. Take it where you will
> 
> Each writer's story must begin with the prompt.

 

 

When Sonja Carter had woken up that morning  she could never have imagined how the day would end. She had heard of U.N.C.L.E. but hadn't had any real idea of what it was they did. In only a few hours she had learned far more than the average civilian.

The blonde woman was now staring down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her when a handsome dark haired man appeared out of nowhere.

Sonja watched in disbelief as he dove at the man holding the gun, knocking him to the ground. A second man appeared through the doorway,  a cute blond with longish hair.

He grabbed her by the hand and yanked her hard.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

“Well heck yeah,” Sonja thought. She could only nod quickly, and guessed that she looked like a wide eyed deer in headlights. She sure felt like one.

He practically dragged her through another door and down a darkened corridor. They made what felt like several turns left and right until they arrived at red brick wall that was dead end, but apparently it wasn’t.

The blond reached up with his hand and pressed one of the bricks, and the wall slowly moved, sliding to the side. It was an elevator.

A secret door to an elevator? What the heck kind of a place had she gotten herself into? All she wanted to do was apply for a job at a charity organization that located was in a three-story whitestone building...if she was still in the same place. At the moment she felt a bit like Alice through the looking glass, only this was real and scarier.

After taking the elevator down one floor it opened to what looked that looked like a gentleman’s club. The blond took her into the back of the club to a room, and there she was ordered to sit down and there he left her. The door was locked of course.

It was grey; the walls, the floor, the door, ceiling, the metal table and two chairs...everything was the same color.

The only thing that wasn’t grey was a big white clock on the wall opposite her; it made the only sound she could hear.

“Tick...tick...tick...tick...tick…” It was a bit unnerving.

After what seemed like time actually standing still the door opened and in walked blondie accompanied by the good looking dark haired guy who saved her from the man with the gun.

“Miss Sonja Carter,” the blond said,”if that is indeed your real name?”

“What do you mean, of course it’s my name. What’s going on here? I walk into a place to apply for a job and wham I get a gun stuck in my face. I really thought I was going to die! Then you treat me like I’m some sort of criminal.” The tears finally burst forth, and the dark haired man gave her his white handkerchief.

“Sorry Miss Carter,” he eyed the blond.”There seems to have been some sort of mix up here I think. Wipe those tears and tell us everything from the beginning.

She sniffled a few times, and someone, a pretty brunette woman dressed in a tight dark pencil skirt and pale blue blouse came in with a stainless steel pitcher of water and a glass.

Sonja saw a gun holstered at her back when the woman turned exited through the door.

“I should ask you! A man points a gun at me, I’m dragged here and now that woman is wearing a gun too!” She started to tear up again.

“Now now,” Napoleon said as he took his handkerchief from her hand and dabbed her cheeks. “No one here is going to hurt you. I seems you caused a bit of a problem when you went somewhere you weren’t supposed to go.”

“You mean what I thought was a bathroom?”

“Yes Miss,”the blond finally spoke again. “It is not just you entering that room, it is more so that you were permitted to do it. Our security apparently failed when that happened.”

“Security? Am I in some sort of police precinct?”

“No not exactly. First, let me introduce myself. My name is Napoleon Solo and this surly gentleman here is Illya Kuryakin. So why don’t you tell us why you came here…”

“To apply for a job,” Illya added with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Sonja took a deep breath. “Do you think I could have a cigarette?”

Napoleon produced his cigarette case and flipping it open, he offered her one. He lit it with his Zippo and waited as she took a long drag. She exhaled and began her story.

”Well I’d heard there was a charity organization looking for help and I thought it might be good to be involved with a company that did positive things for people who needed help. So I went in the front door of  the place; I had a resumé with me...I’m a secretary by the way, but I need a full time job not a part-time one like I have at the deliver company. Anyway, I was told the charity organization was on the third floor.”

She paused to flick her cigarette ash into a small glass ashtray.

“I took the elevator up, got off and that’s when I realized I had to use the little girl’s room. It was quite a walk to get here and I didn’t exactly have cab money as I don’t get paid until Friday.”

Napoleon gave his partner a sly glance when she said all this, Illya’s face however, remained unreadable as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed in front of himself.

“I walked down the hall and went into what I thought was a bathroom. When I realized it wasn’t, that’s when the man with the gun came in and stuck it in my face. I thought he was going to kill me...what was he some sort of maniac?

“Not exactly,” Napoleon smiled.”Please continue Miss Carter.”

“Well that’s when you came in Mister Solo and you sort of saved my life I guess, and then you Mister Kury...Kuryakin came along and dragged me off, none too gently I might add, and then you deposited me here and kept me waiting like forever.”

Another woman came into the room, this time she was a curvaceous blonde. She wore the same kind of pencil skirt, but her tight fitting blouse was yellow; she had a gun holstered at the small of her back as well.

“Napoleon, here’s her profile. She looks legit.”

“Thanks Melanie.”

“See you tonight then,” she smiled before leaving.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Napoleon flashed her a smile to die for, at least that’s what Sonja thought to herself.

He handed the paper to Illya who put on a pair of thick framed tinted glasses. Once he finished reading it he handed it back to Solo.

“Where would you like to proceed from here?”

“Well,” Napoleon squinted one eye.” They _are_ looking for secretaries in Section VII.”

“Miss Carter, let me apologize for my less than gentle treatment of you,” Illya said. His tone of voice had softened and sounded quite nice.

“You see we are part of an organization called the U.N.C.L.E. and we usually maintain tight security in our headquarters...but that was not the case today. With you however, there was a breach of that security.”

“I’ve heard of UNCLE but I don’t know what it is you do. Why all the security?”

It was Napoleon’s turn to speak again,” The acronym stands for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. We are an international organization in scope and are responsible  for "maintaining political and legal order anywhere in the world.”

“We protect and defend nations regardless of their size or political persuasion. The U.N.C.L.E. operates in Communist and Third World countries the same way that it does in the Western nations,” Illya added.

“You mean you’re sort of like INTERPOL?” She asked.

“Not quite,” Napoleon smiled.”Sometimes we operate by clandestine means if necessary.”

“So you’re spies?”

“That and much more,” Napoleon said.“Now if you’re still interested in applying for that secretarial position, I think we can see our way fit for you to get the job, as a little apology for what happened to day. We usually don’t scare the heck out of job applicants.”

“You will however have to undergo a lie detector test, and a few other things as part of the vetting process,” Illya said,”given we are a secret organization.”

“So I’d be working for the government then?”

“Oh no,” Illya said.” The U.N.C.L.E. owes no allegiance to any government. We operate independently and have headquarters throughout the world.”

“And you’re not part of the United Nations?” Sonja asked.

“No we are not,” Napoleon answered that one.

Something told her these guys were handing a load horse hockey, and this had to be some sort sting operation or maybe even a Commie plot. Spies? Good Lord, what had she gotten herself into now? Why they picked her, she had no idea. She was beyond tears and her instinct to escape finally kicked in; she suddenly stood, grabbing the metal chair and swung it unexpectedly.

She went for the smaller of the two men, the one with the Russkie name, and she nailed him with it hard, hitting him right in the head.

Illya went down, his head bloodied from the blow; Sonja Carter was hit with a sleep dart within seconds of her outburst and collapsed to the floor.

 

Neither man expected such a move from her and were caught off guard; it could happen to the best of them.

Kuryakin was out cold and rushed to the Medical Suite. Miss Carter taken off by security and would be given a drug to permanently wipe her memory for the last twenty-four hours. That little formula was something U.N.C.L.E. had in their possession thanks to T.H.R.U.S.H.

Napoleon caught hell from the Old Man for letting a pretty woman distract him, which he denied for all the good it did him. At the moment he was worried about his partner who was still unconscious.

 

********

Illya Kuryakin made his way downstairs from his apartment building and as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he snapped open a long cane with a white tip. The kind a blind person uses, and that was because he was indeed blind.

He was no longer a Section II field agent and for that reason headquarters could no longer supply him with free housing. Only Section II's received that luxury.

When that happened he felt surprisingly anxious, as it was the first time in many years he would be on his own. Being blind as well had shaken his confidence, that was until Napoleon said he could move in with him for however long he needed to stay.

There was no arguing on Kuryakin's part, for once. And now here it was six months later,  Illya had lost his sight from a blow to the head. The doctors said it was a fluke and were unable to confirm he’d regain his sight again.

He was relieved after Solo made his offer. His personal belongings, which didn’t really amount to much, were moved upstairs into Napoleon’s second bedroom. He was reminded to stay as long as he liked.

What bothered him more about his current circumstances was that he was no longer Napoleon Solo’s partner. They were however, still the best of friends and hence the offer of a home where Illya could live in the meantime.

He was still employed by the Command, but it was now impossible to for Illya to work in the labs or other areas with which he was familiar.

Illya imagined Waverly kept him on out of the goodness of his heart, letting him answer calls in communications.  It made him feel somewhat useful, and having been a field agent he had the advantage of being able to answer questions made by lesser experienced agents without having to transfer their calls. Still he longed to be back in the field again, working with Napoleon. 

Ironically though he lived with Solo, his former partner wasn't around much. Napoleon when not off on assignment was keeping busy with his dating schedule. 

***

As he stepped out from the small lobby of the apartment building, Kuryakin felt the cool breeze on his face. He didn’t feel the sun and thought it must be cloudy. It smelled like it was going to rain. He was always good at detecting such things, and didn't need his eyesight to sense a change in the weather.

He was wearing a rumpled brown suede jacket that had seen better days over his suit jacket. The collar to his shirt was open, and this tie left undone. He looked a bit disheveled; his hair was a bit long, and not combed very well, and he had several days beard growth. Though spartan in appearance, he’d always been well groomed until life had handed him this setback.

He wore a pair of  dark glasses with side shields  to to prevent others from seeing his eyes. He hated the idea of people peering at him, and possibly pitying him.

A taxi was waiting curbside for him and the driver, who was a Section III agent, called out to him.

“Mr. K.” As he got closer he whispered the password to Kuryakin.

”The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.”

“But only on Tuesdays,” Illya chuckled.”They need to get better codes. Though it is apropos for today as it is going to rain, I think.”

“You got that right Mr. K,” the driver looked up at the darkening sky, wondering how the Russian knew that. Couldn’t have been on the news as the storm was blowing in too fast.

“I’m going to touch you, so don’t slug me,” the driver took Kuryakin’s hand and placed it on his forearm, and led him over to the taxi. It was going to take a while for Illya to become accustomed to that routine.

No one ever touched a field agent without living to regret it...except Sonja Carter. He forgave the woman for her outburst, she was merely an innocent who feared for her life. He did however, not forgive himself for being caught off guard; it never should have happened.

The driver opened the back door for him, “Mind your head.”

Illya climbed in, not saying another word.

The ride to headquarters was short, though Illya canted his head to the side as he heard the rain hit the windows.

He probably could have easily walked to headquarters like he had so many times before, but Waverly insisted his Russian take an UNCLE taxi five days a week. Still walking in the rain at the moment wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

On the weekends he was free to do as he wished, but he sometimes volunteered to take an extra shift if someone needed the time off. More often he was told to stay home unless he made use of a Section III escort To Kuryakin, it was like being babysat and he didn’t take kindly to it. Still he had a job to do and Waverly was still his boss.

The Old Man was aware of Solo’s offer for his former partner to live with him. He regretted the necessity to evict the Russian from his humble abode, but the space was needed for another agent who’d been promoted to Section II, as well as being moved up to be Solo’s new partner.

Napoleon wasn’t happy about that at all... deep down Illya wasn't either, and these daily escorts as well.

Illya Kuryakin was too vulnerable, and had a vast amount of important things in that head of his for THRUSH not to try to take advantage of his being disabled. It would be too easy to kidnap him.

Waverly considered deprogramming his former number two man, but if he did that, Kuryakin would have to be sent back to the Soviet Union. He’d be useless to them of course, other than them trying to get UNCLE secrets out of him which they’d have little success in doing. He'd suffer in the process and would most likely be executed.

The Old Man decided it was best to keep him classified as Section II and just go on pretending Kuryakin was in the field that's the least he could do for the young man who had been one of his top agents.

 

The taxi pulled up in front of Del Floria’s and Illya stepped out to the sidewalk. It had stopped raining but he could hear the water dripping down from awnings, and the street lights.

There was no need for the driver to help him as he knew the number of steps it took to get to the stairs, and there were only three steps down.

Illya flipped open his cane and after exiting the vehicle, he listened for the sound of footfalls, and hearing none he proceeded on towards Del Floria's.

Once reaching the door, he turned the knob and stepped inside to the welcoming sound of that little brass bell.

He nodded as he walked past the steam press and the agent he knew was manning it as he coughed to let Kuryakin know he was there.

Illya heard the double shot of steam acknowledging his presence as he reached the dressing room and stepped inside. Turning the coat hook, he waited for the heavy door to slowly swing open. He'd never counted the seconds it took for that to happen when he had his sight and wished now under his current circumstances that he had.

“Good morning Illya,” the receptionist called to him. That told him how far he was from the desk and as he stepped forward.

“Good morning Heather.”

As he stepped forward he bumped into someone who was definitely not Heather McNabb.He heard and ‘oof’ and apologized for his clumsiness.

“My fault Illya,” Heather said.”I should have warned you Agent Harding was standing here. She pinned Illya’s ID badge on for him.

“Not a problem Miss,” Harding said. He had a British accent and Illya immediately recognized the name as he was Napoleon’s new partner.

Solo wasn’t thrilled about him at all, but it was the Old Man’s orders he have a new partner, and that was that.

“So you’re Kuryakin, we finally meet at last.”

“Yes I am, and you are the one who took over for me being partnered with Napoleon.” Illya offered his hand but Harding didn’t take it.

Realizing he was being snubbed, Illya shoved his way past the man, making sure he shoulder-butted Harding, and headed to the secondary entrance.

“Don’t think your blindness means you can get away with things like that,” Harding said. “Just because you’re the great Illya Kuryakin doesn’t mean you’re relevant anymore. In my estimation Waverly should have sent you packing back to the Soviet Union.”

“Oh really, you think I am irrelevant?”

“Illya don’t?” Heather whispered. She could see him making a fist and the whitening of his knuckles. He had a lot of pent up frustration and anger, something he kept under control, generally but Harding managed to open the door and release those feelings.  Illya Kuryakin was not irrelevant and he let loose.

It was too late for Heather to stop him nd Kuryakin lashed out with his cane, striking Harding first on the left cheek and with the return snap, across his shins.

“Why you fucking Commie bastard!” Harding charged him and slammed Illya into the wall; he hit his head hard against it.

Harding reached for his gun but Illya managed to karate chop the man, whether he knew about the gun was immaterial as his defensing hand found its mark. Harding dropped to the floor, unconscious and Kuryakin slowly slipped down against the wall, passing out as he landed on his rump.

Security arrived within minutes and carted off Harding. They’d seen and heard everything on their monitors. Illya was still out and was taken up to the Medical Suite to be examined.

Napoleon received a call in his office from Heather and he glanced over at Illya’s desk sitting empty, though he couldn’t share the office with Kuryakin anymore, he’d be damned if he’d let Harding sit at Illya’s desk; as CEA he could choose to have an office of his own, and that's exactly what he'd done.

He dashed up to Medical and arrived at his friend’s bedside and remained there. Finally, when Illya woke he smiled.

“Just like old times,” the Russian said. “Good to see you my friend.”

“You mean you can really see me?” Napoleon’s mouth hung open in shock.

“Yes, you are a bit blurry but I can definitely see you, you should close your mouth before a fly gets in there. Perhaps you should call the doctor to let him know of the change in my condition?”

“I’ll go get him, don’t go anywhere tovarisch!” Napoleon’s voice was filled with excitement as he rushed off in search of Doctor Greene.

“I was not planning on it,” Illya called back.

Greene arrived, along with Doctor Rosenthal, the resident ophthalmologist.

Solo was ushered from the room while they examined Kuryakin and when they were finished they announced the good news to Napoleon.

“He’s going to regain his full eyesight. Since it was a head injury that caused his blindness, who would have thought his hitting his head again would make him regain it?”

“If he gets hit in the head could he lose his sight again?” Napoleon asked.

“Honestly we have no way of knowing,” Rosenthal said.

”His losing it in the first place from a blow to the head was highly improbable, just as him regaining it from another hit to the head is just as implausible.”

"Ahem.  Good afternoon gentlemen."

They turned their attention to Mister Waverly who had suddenly appeared; it was rare that he ever came to Medical. The physicians immediately filled him in on Kuryakin’s miraculous recovery.

Waverly was apparently already ware of Kuryakin's condition. “Gentlemen if you will excuse me, I’d like to speak to the patient alone,” He closed the door to Illya's room after himself.

“Hello young man,” he nodded as he sat in the chair Napoleon had placed at Illya’s bedside.

“Pleased to see you sir.”

The Old Man smiled at that, but paused as he gathered his thoughts.

“Yes I would imagine you are. Delighted at your prognosis, but I am not happy regarding your recent behavior with Mister Harding in reception.”

“Sir I…”

“However what you did triggered a reaction from Harding, revealing his prejudices that we have suspected since he joined us from the London office. Mister Solo first brought it to our attention but we had no hard evidence to substantiate his attitude problem. Sadly I couldn’t take Mr. Solo’s word on it alone, given he didn’t want to work with Mister Harding in the first place. I’m afraid your friendship with each other presented a bit of a dilemma in his remaining neutral.  I trust your _partner_ implicitly but Section I demanded concrete proof in regards to Mister Harding. I must admit, your misbehavior as it were, had several positive results.”

“I apologize for losing my temper sir, but I am glad it resulted in you gaining the evidence you needed. What will happen to Mister Harding?”

“He is being sent to our field office in Greenland for a bit of attitude adjustment. If that doesn’t correct it, then he’ll be deprogrammed and sent on his way.”

“So Mister Solo is without a partner again.”

“Well not quite, by the way Mister Kuryakin, I do require my field agents to be well groomed. I think a shave and a hair trim are in order once Doctors Greene and Rosenthal release you.”

Illya grinned at that bit of news.

"You will have to be recertified I'm afraid, but I have no doubt you pass with flying colors," the Old Man winked at him.

“Oh and we will be relocating your belongings back to your apartment young man...welcome back Agent Kuryakin.

“Thank you sir.”

“You’re welcome. I will give Mister Solo the good news. In the meantime rest Mister Kuryakin. I’ll need you in tiptop shape for your recertification."

"Sir, I have had more than enough rest, and I have still continued to work out in the gymnasium."

"Good, then you'll be ready for your next assignment with Mister Solo sooner than later young man," Waverly winked at him as he opened the door and disappeared through it.


End file.
